


Just a polite Conversation

by samstjames



Category: X-Men: The Movie
Genre: C., Jean G. & Xavier, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:45:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samstjames/pseuds/samstjames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <div>
<b>Just  a polite Conversation</b><p>Disclaimer:  All the characters belong to Marvel Inc. and/or Twentieth Century Fox or whoever might claim to posses them.</p><p>A/N:  So this is my first X-Men FF I ever finished, published… whatever. And actually it's my oldest story written in English (which ain't my mother tongue, btw.)<br/>1. Sometimes I get wacky and weird ideas. They come completely out of  the blue, catch me off guard and provide me with a lot of strange  stuff to think about; while I should be doing other, more important things<br/>2. Mostly a story begins to form out of those odd ideas.<br/>3. This totally is one of those stories.<br/>(I'm  not as mad as this might suggest… and my ideas are not always  strange…)<br/>So,  if you might be easily bothered and offended by more or less hidden or blunt suggestions in Direction JeanxXavier (this alone should probably give me some things to ponder... but anyway) maybe you shouldn't read along. There might be some crude words too; I warned you!<br/>Could  be AU or something like that (lay importance on: something like that) and I did make some assumptions concerning the backgrounds of the  X-Men, the Brotherhood, etc. pp.<br/>One  direct allusion to the fact that Famke Janssen and Patrick Steward knew each other before X-Men from filming an episode of Star Trek. Well who finds it?<br/>This story goes unbetaed (as it is age old...) so corrections are always welcomed.</p></div>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Just a polite Conversation**
> 
> Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Marvel Inc. and/or Twentieth Century Fox or whoever might claim to posses them.
> 
> A/N: So this is my first X-Men FF I ever finished, published… whatever. And actually it's my oldest story written in English (which ain't my mother tongue, btw.)  
> 1\. Sometimes I get wacky and weird ideas. They come completely out of the blue, catch me off guard and provide me with a lot of strange stuff to think about; while I should be doing other, more important things  
> 2\. Mostly a story begins to form out of those odd ideas.  
> 3\. This totally is one of those stories.  
> (I'm not as mad as this might suggest… and my ideas are not always strange…)  
> So, if you might be easily bothered and offended by more or less hidden or blunt suggestions in Direction JeanxXavier (this alone should probably give me some things to ponder... but anyway) maybe you shouldn't read along. There might be some crude words too; I warned you!  
> Could be AU or something like that (lay importance on: something like that) and I did make some assumptions concerning the backgrounds of the X-Men, the Brotherhood, etc. pp.  
> One direct allusion to the fact that Famke Janssen and Patrick Steward knew each other before X-Men from filming an episode of Star Trek. Well who finds it?  
> This story goes unbetaed (as it is age old...) so corrections are always welcomed.

He felt fear slowly creep up his spine, when he saw her lying there. All lifeless and limp, her brown eyes with those green flames blazing in them closed, Erics hand stroking her cheek, gliding through her auburn hair, which sparkled with strands of firing red. He knew Erik knew he was there, staring at him, at her, in complete and utter shock.

"No need to look so worried, Charles, she's not dead, as are the others." Erics voice was cold, but not teasing, not yet; he said the truth. When he watched carefully he could see her breathing. Her chest was rising slowly with each in- and outtake of air, her lips lightly parted. "Just unconscious." His old friend went on, his hands still working gently through the smoothness of her hair, caressing her pale tender skin. "I suppose she'll have a terrible headache, but I wouldn't kill your most precious pupil, or should I say possession?"

"She's not a possession, at least mine." He retorted, anger slowly rising in him. "And what do you want, baiting them and knocking them out?"

Eric laughed still staying completely unmoved. "Well… I just wanted to make a little bit polite conversation and of course see what your prized X-Men, or rather X-Kids, can actually do. I must say, I am majorly impressed. You trained them very well, so they put up quite a fight. But they hadn't so much of a chance against us. After all, they are just kids, aren't they? I was really amazed when I saw that the storm child and little Jean had learned how to fly." Eric fixed him, his glance not unfriendly but cold. "Don't you feel any remorse for using them?"

"I do not use them, Eric. They are doing everything they do due to their free will."

Erics brows shot up in disbelief. "You really think they do it because they think it would be the right thing to do? Charles, they are just so grateful, they feel like they would owe you to fight for your dream, your loyal little soldiers." He laughed again, this time it sounded more like mockery. "You cannot deny that you saved them. You saved Scott and Ororo both from a dreadful life on the streets and gorgeous little Jean from losing her mind. I very much doubt she would be able to speak today, much less beginning to study, had you not helped her, had you not decided she was worth it. She is grateful, oh so grateful, I suppose she would do nearly everything just to repay you."

"They always have the choice to say no, Eric. I'm not like you demanding complete obedience and I do not think that they look at me as their saviour. They all have a mind of their own and I very much appreciate when they use it to judge a situation and their actions."

"But obedience is sometimes better than thinking, especially when it comes to critical moments. The children I raise would never even consider questioning my decisions, the tasks I give them. Ah yes, that was the reason I wanted to meet you. You and your children I should say." Eric actually smiled. "I just wanted to inform you that I too found some young mutants to train and form. And be warned, Charles, do not try to cross my path."

He ignored the last comment; it was not worth discussing now. He knew that theirs paths would inevitably cross somewhere in the future. "I'm not forming them. I show them what they can do and hope they don't become monsters."

"Monsters like me? Mutants who want superiority above mankind? But well, I think you made your opinion pretty clear when you told me to leave. We discussed this topic often enough."

They fell silent for a moment; Eric still kneeling next to Jeans unconscious form, her head lying in his lap, he sitting in his wheelchair and carefully watching them. They had been friends, fought on the same side, but today the rift between them was just too wide to cross; probably they even would become enemies. "You know, I proposed Jean to come with me. But she refused. What a pity. I could teach her so much more, I could teach her how to use her whole magnificent psionic potential. You know very well, Charles, one day, she will be so much more powerful than we two together ever have been; it is just a question of training."

"You would simply teach her how to control other people, how to meddle with theirs thoughts; and you would use her for your ambitions."

"Yes maybe. Maybe, but you cannot teach her much more. You just bore her and the others with morality and giving them qualms. And if I may remind you, you use her and the others as well, no matter how much you like to claim the contrary."

"I show them how to act responsible, that is not quite the same."

"You just teach them how to accept that humans despise them, and maybe will even begin to persecute them. That is not really _acceptable_ if you ask me."

"I am not asking you, Eric, because you will never understand me. You may, though, have a point, but maybe not. And I would appreciate it if you now would leave so that I could take care of the youngsters you so nicely knocked unconscious." There was a sharp edge to his voice; he was not in the mood to dawdle while his students might need medical care.

"So harsh today Charles… but we have a lot of time, they'll be out for another thirty minutes, securely drugged to sleep. After that they will awake. No harm done to anyone." He had liked to wipe that very self satisfied smirk out of Erics face, but he knew as well as his old friend did, that he would and could never do so. "So, in the meantime I thought we talk a little about Jean. I assume she is still as mature, responsible and sensible as ever; a really clever girl, with her wits sharp as blades. But now she's grown up too, her body no longer that of a young girl, but of a beautiful, well, let's say stunning woman. Breathtaking this irresistible mix of childish innocence and the intoxicating sensuality of womanhood, don't you agree Charles? Her swanlike throat, those slender arms, her narrow waist and her endless legs are making her really a knockout. Not to forget those high cheekbones, her fine, almost angelic features, carved from a real master, those delicately curved brows, her sweet lips, this smooth skin and her silky hair. She obviously was made to be desired." Eric paused and a mischievously grin was tugging at his lips. "Do _you_ desire her, Charles? Is she the object of your dreams, your fragile red-haired Venus?"

He glowered at Eric, but his voice was almost neutral when he answered. "Don't be silly, Eric. I could easily be her father."

"Well Charles, as you probably know, desire is not a question of age, maybe of taste, but never of age. And you cannot deny how precious she is for you, isn't she? She is the only other telepath you ever encountered, and better still, she is female; your perfect mate. Whom do you want to fool? Yourself? Her? Me? I am most certain that you do love her, and in a most un-fatherly way I can tell."

"And how do you come to such hilarious conclusions?" His voice had become cold.

Erics Hand paused on Jeans cheek, he bent his head a little and had a better look at her relaxed features, before he looked up again; the mischievous grin hadn't disappeared but widened. "I know you, Charles. I may be not a telepath, but I know you."

Jean sighed, captivating the attention of both Eric and him, muscles working visibly along her jaw. She parted her lips just a little bit more and murmured something completely incomprehensible before she lay still again. "So cat got your tongue Charles, or was it her, catching your breath in your throat, that prevents you from a witty retort?"

"That is nonsense. Yes I love her, but…"

"You really want to tell me, you love her in the same way as the others? Come on Charles, you know very well that it is not true."

Another pause lingered; unspoken words poisoning the atmosphere. He would not discuss especially this truly delicate topic with Eric and therefore he had more than one reason: first, it might make him vulnerable in a way he did not like; second, he was shocked that it showed.

"She is still bad at shielding herself, I presume, so she still blacks sometimes out when you are training with her."

"Eric, as much as I like you making irrelevant smalltalk and nice conversation, I am not sure I understand what you are driving at."

"It is obvious, is it not? I just want to ask you if you never used her unconsciousness to touch her? Strip her of her clothes and watch her utter nude beauty? Caress her silken skin with your fingers? Feel the sweet and promising softness of her body? Kiss her innocent lips?" Eric traced a line along her cheek, smiling, when Jean again muttered something indiscernible. "You never envisioned how it would be to feel her?"

"Eric, this is clearly not a topic to make fun of." His tone had become lecturing; he sighed taking a deep breath to express his disgust. "And well, I never touched her in a way for which I could not take the complete responsibility and I definitely did not imagine myself coupling with her." It was a lie, well, one of his statements, but he would never admit that anyway.

Eric went on as if he hadn't heard his last remark. "Indeed I very much doubt she would reject you if you would ask. She feels so grateful for what you did, for saving her… she will certainly let you in her bed, her pants…" He made a pause to underline his point. "…and her body. Probably she would even enjoy it. I think you should be able to do so, I mean to please and satisfy her. You might sit in a wheelchair, Charles, but you are not dead."

"You get a bit carried away with your nasty thoughts, Eric." He tried to put as much repulsion in his voice as he could. "And in case you did not realise it, you are insulting her."

"What, you are playing the guard of her innocence and virginity, Charles? How cute, but isn't this a bit like letting a fox look after your hens?" Eric's tone was clearly mocking him now. "Well at least I suppose she is still a virgin."

"How crude, Eric, and this would obviously be none of your business, don't you think?"

"Depends on what you think is my business. But I assume you already realised, telepath that you are, that Scott loves her, and that she feels attracted to him? They are drawn to each other like moths to a flame since they met for the first time. It is just a question of time, and they will become a couple. I am just asking myself if you could stand it. If you could stand the thought that he was touching her in a way you are too much of a coward to do. Or that he could have what you denied yourself."

"And this too, would be none of your business, as it is none of mine."

"So much denial, Charles... so much denial..." Eric actually laughed. "So well, I think we might yet complete this polite little chat at another time, a time, when you are perhaps not any longer denying what you feel and what you want. Or a time which causes much more troubles, even fighting." He sighed. "Goodbye my old friend." With that he placed Jeans body carefully on the ground and stood, turning to leave.

"Goodbye, Eric."

"Maybe you should ponder my words."

At least, he really would ponder some of the things which had been said, because some of them simply held too much truth to ignore them. But before he could do so, there were more pressing matters at hand. He took his mobile phone and dialled. It only needed to ring two times. "Hank, I require your help. Eric had the team drugged and unconscious…"

After ending his short call, he realised that Jean wasn't as unconscious as he had thought. She stirred, her eyes fluttering slowly open to stare at him with dilated pupils and a bit dazed. Her lips moved, but not a single audible syllable came from them; like some kind of silent prayer. She sighed, her beautiful eyes still fixed on him. "Professor…" she whispered, apparently fighting with the urge to drift again into sleep. "…I heard what you and Mr. Lehnsherr talked about…" she finally managed to say, the expression on her face unreadable, but her cheeks visibly flushed.

He stared at her in disbelief. "But you were unconscious, Jean, maybe you dreamt."

"No… I was kinda out of it, but I could hear you, loud and clear." She paused, now blushing rather furiously. "Even your thoughts." Closing her eyes again, she sighed. "But I think I'm somehow okay with that."

There was a long pause, a slightly uncomfortable silence, before he realised that she was out cold once more. He suspected everything would be back to normal in due time; Jean would be okay, simply pretending she never knew.  
He just sat there in his wheelchair, watching, offering her sleeping form a loving smile she couldn't see.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Marvel Inc. and/or Twentieth Century Fox or whoever might claim to posses them.
> 
> A/N: Okay; I didn't intend to write a second part, but it just... well, kinda happened. And I admit that I can't decide whether to write Erik Lehnsherr or Eric Lehnsherr; regarding his European origin it should probably be Erik Lehnsherr... _oh to hell with it_  
> Sam

A bead of sweat was slowly forming at her temple, then gliding down her smooth pale skin, over her cheeks until it rested for a second, wavering and slightly trembling, at her chin before it finished its way down the expanse of her swanlike throat vanishing under her shirt. It seemed to go completely unnoticed by her. Her eyes were looking completely transfixed into emptiness, focussing onto eternity and the now-moment at the same time, seeing everything and nothing at all.

He looked at her, staring at the fine features of her face, which had now begun to lose the innocent angelic appearance of childhood, just to gain a stunning ethereal beauty intoxicating and enchanting at the same time, surrounded by a mass of velvety auburn hair. He had tried not to see it, tried very hard simply to not see that she wasn't anymore the little girl he got to know years ago, that she wasn't anymore _his_ little girl and since he couldn't turn back time, she would never be it again… and well, she had turned eighteen half a month ago… but it was time to admit it to himself: Jean Elisabeth Grey was grown up and she was unbelievably gorgeous in a way he had never thought possible when he first met the almost catatonic eleven year old girl who didn't speak, who didn't react, who didn't seem to take part at life at all. And now… she seemed to be life itself, filled with so much emotion and passion, incredibly beautiful and ebullient, visually extremely striking and glowing with a charismatic aura that drew all attention immediately to her. He saw the way the "boys" looked at her and he also saw the way she responded, how she smiled in this manner that sent the head of the young men spinning and made the other women around her envious. It seemed a bit like the smile of Mona Lisa, charming, enthralling and a bit mysterious and it made his heart ache, because it always reminded him of something he would, or better he could never get.

In the meantime the strain of the exercise had become clearly visible in her face, which now looked exceptionally pale, almost ill. Her concentration was wavering, her mind becoming open again when her telepathic shields faded away like flowers in the desert.

_Jean, you need to concentrate._

He could feel instantly her shields snap up again when she complied to his slight rebuke, saw how much it did cost to re-establish them. Her skin even got a little paler, concentration drawing sharp edges into her normally smooth features; she looked almost like she was going to faint and her freckles seemed to burn against the white of her face.

After a relatively short time the shields again wavered and finally crumbled like a wrong constructed wall under a sudden gust of wind. _Jean, concentrate_. He reminded her again.

"I _AM_ CONCENTRATING, DAMMIT!" For a brief second he had the impression to see her eyes blaze with flaring flames, her pupils completely alight with the inner fire burning in her. Her sudden outburst was accompanied by a strong telekinetic wave, knocking everything from his desk and out of the shelves at the wall, smashing vases and picture frames and even shoving him in his wheelchair some feet away. Her telekinetic power was encircling him, slightly prickling on his skin until it vanished almost as fast as it had arisen. The way her powers had developed had begun to worry him, because when she should consciously use them to move an object, such as a book it was a great effort for her, but then again, in those moments when she lost control and got carried away in the simple sensation of psionic power rushing through her body, or when emotions became overwhelming for her, her powers were disquietingly easy strong enough to wreck a whole room, endangering everybody and everything around her. Problem was, at times Jean had a very jumpy temper which tended to be highly explosive when it came to telekinetic manifestations of her emotional state.

He remembered clearly Erik's words from some time ago… he had been right of course, Jean had much more potential than anyone else of his X-Men, she had more potential than anyone would like to see. She just wouldn't allow herself to use it, to form it, to control it in the proper way, because she was simply underestimating her abilities, she didn't trust her psionic skills and she didn't trust herself. That was why she always had the impression to be behind the others, not to develop fast enough.

But she did. He knew it, he saw it; he could feel it and it downright scared him, woke him in the middle of the night his body covered in cold sweat. To underestimate Scott, Ororo, Hank, Warren, himself or the other mutants could be dangerous, to underestimate Jean was potentially deadly and this time it was her who chose not to see.

Her face displayed guilt and shame, her cheeks burned. "I'm so sorry… I didn't mean, I didn't want… I… I just…" She stammered, while she rushed around, picking all the things up her outburst had sent flying to the ground. That was what he feared most, that at some time in the future, maybe there wouldn't be anyone left to pick up the shattered pieces.

"You lost control." He finished her sentence, his voice soothing, caring. He was a bit worried about her because she was straining herself way too much while pressing matters.

Her head was lowered; her eyes avoiding meeting his glance, her movements had stopped as if she simply lost track of her actions. "Yeah…" her voice was low, almost inaudible. "I lost control."

"Jean, it's okay. Sometimes it just happens."

"But it shouldn't! And nothing's okay! I'm working so _damn_ hard to control these _bloody_ powers but it just won't work!" Frustration was tinting her voice, and he could again feel her telekinetic powers filling the air around them, making it seemingly thick with energy.

He interrupted her, preventing a flow of curses which would have made even a sailor blush and maybe another telekinetic outburst. "Language."

She was kneeling in front ob him, staying completely immobilized. "Sorry Professor, I was just... frustrated." Jean admitted like caught inflagranti delicto, the gaze of her greenish brown eyes averted. "Why couldn't you just block it again, like you did when I was a child?"

To be true he had pondered this possibility too, but with complete different and more or less selfish motives in his head. Yes, why didn't he just block her telepathy, making her his little oh so dependant girl again? The answer was simple and not so much founded on his ethics and morals as he had liked it but on a quite obvious fact: Jean wasn't a girl anymore and he feared he would make things worse, cause her even more instability and probably even make her powers errant. And well, though he would never admit that to anyone, he was quite certain that she herself was now so strong, though she tried so very hard not to see it, he just wouldn't be able to do it. She was stronger than him, and she didn't even have the half of the control he had over his powers; this thought really frightened him now and then when he experienced what she was able to do while her powers were consuming her.

"Jean, you're not a child anymore. And you know how essential it is for you to gain more control over your powers, before they probably begin to overwhelm you again."

He could see her jaw working, muscles at her throat and along her jaw-line clenching when she gulped. "I know…" She whispered, afraid of the possibility he had implied. Her biggest fear was to get overwhelmed by all the voices again, to get lost in them like she did when she was a child, nearly completely disintegrating herself in all those memories and thoughts which didn't belong to her.

"No need to worry, Jean." Instinctively he patted her shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze. "You're making a great job, though there are still some problems we have to take care of, but you know, that's why I am here, to help you." He could see that she forced a smile at her lips, pretending her inner fears, which she didn't confide to anybody, weren't existent anymore. She always did this, shoving away her fears, squashing them to pieces and pushing those to the darkest pits of her mind, burying them under her cheerful appearance because they didn't fit her claim to be perfect, to please everybody; another trait that sometimes worried him a bit. Pretence was the first thing a telepath had to learn, to pretend to not know, to not see, to not hear and to not witness, though you did know, you did see, you did hear and you witnessed; Jean had learned her lesson very well, like she always did his precious model-pupil. "And I think for now, we should call it a day. Take some rest, Jean and don't stress yourself so much."

"I will." He knew she wouldn't; school was stressing her, as well as her training with the team, her lessons with him and not to forget her relationship with Scott, still... he had no choice but to accept her answer. She stood up, setting all the things she had picked up on his desk again, before she bent over to him and placed a soft kiss on his forehead; he felt her breath tickling on his skin. "Thank you." She whispered, her lips brushing slightly his skin while she spoke, before she straightened again to her full impressing height, taking a step back. "And I'll take care of all the fragments." She pointed to the nondescript mass of broken glass that had once been a vase. Her hand rested outstretched, directed to the pieces, concentration again clearly visible on her face and then the pieces began to float in the air, wandering to the dustbin in the corner.

When she finally exited the room he could see Scott already waiting for her in the hallway; he always did, because he was so concerned about her, knowing very well that she didn't know when she had enough, when it was time for her to slow down, allow herself a little rest. The young man walked up to her, hugged her and gave her a short, but significant lovingly kiss. "You okay? You look exhausted." He stroked with his thumb over her still pale cheeks, looking slightly anxious.

Again this forced smile appeared on her lips, though Scott didn't know her well enough to recognize it as such. "Yeah, everything's fine." She assured the young man, kissing him again to underline her answer and again pretending she didn't feel the sharp sting of jealousy coming from him, when her lips met the ones of her comrade. Before she closed telekinetically the door she took a short glance back to him where he sat in his wheelchair behind his desk, her thoughts this time perfectly shielded from him, but her eyes expressing some kind of guilt and remorse he couldn't decipher and interpret.

Finally he sighed into the silence of his bureau, feeling his heart ache when he thought about the young couple which was so dear to him. Yes, Erik had been right, he desired her with some dark part of his being, but he loved both, Scott and Jean. In the end, it didn't matter what he felt towards her, because it would not only be scandalous, but completely wrong to act in this respect. So in the end everything would go on as usual.

Everybody would pretend he just didn't know.


End file.
